Buyin a Oneway Ticket Out of Your Mind
by The First Light
Summary: Chapter 4 is up! Hot Streak just came out of the army, and is going with a fresh start. He is now named "Knives" and no one knows who he really is. Pls R&R.
1. Words of Wisdom

Buyin` a Oneway Ticket Out Of My Mind  
  
Hot Streak stared at the wall, his mind blank. He hated himself. Just himself. He never hated Static. Or Gear. Always himself. For the way he turned out, for the way he was, for everything. He smiled, thinking: Nobody needs me. Not my parents, not my buddies. Still life goes on in the city even though I've lost everything. He wanted to change. But something in his nature wouldn't let him.  
  
"I never needed reason to reason with my mind. I can see the future and today is a good day to die," he quoted under his breath.  
  
Suicide had always occured to him. It occured again as he walked out of his home and into the bright sun. But he could never bring himself to do it. That one time with Static had been his only chance to help him. He owed it to the guy.  
  
"How did it come to this?" he asked no-one in particular.  
  
"I dunno. You tell me."  
  
Hot Streak turned to find Static floating on his disk a few feet above him. His eyes narrowed and he just turned and walked away. Just keep cool. He didn't want to fight. He didn't want to hurt anybody. Not like he had done once already. Static stared at Hot Streaks back. He hadn't caused any disasters in days. Something was wrong.   
  
"Hot Streak, is there something wrong man?"  
  
Hot Streak kept his mouth shut and just shook his head. Emptyness consumed him. All he could do was continue to force himself to belive that there was nothing wrong and maybe it would all dissapate. But he knew that it was the child part of him that wanted that.   
  
"You need to talk to someone if there's something wrong. It just might help."  
  
Hot Streak stopped and turned his head toward Static. He allowed himself a sadistic smile, in spite of his feelings.  
  
"Sure. When I feel like I truly need it I just might listen to you. But not now," he replied, looking down. "This is something I need to do on my own."  
  
He continued his walk down the road toward the cemetary. He stared across it from the gate.  
  
"Been a while since I was last here."  
  
Static stared at Hot Streak again. "Why would you be here in the first place?"  
  
He gave Static a sad smile. "`Cause my mom died. Well, actually she killed herself. Took to much asprin at once. Got drugged. You know. Been three years. Three."  
  
Hot Streak picked his way across the field toward a solitary headstone. The name had chipped away slightly and it was dusty and untaken care of. The young red head sighed and bowed.  
  
The next day Hot Streak sat in class for once, tapping his pencil. Character Ed sucked.   
  
"Francis, do you have any words of wisdom?"  
  
He thought for a minute. "The longer one holds onto a memory, the longer they live in the past. The sweeter the memory, the deeper the meaning. But as long as revenge exist, let the sorrow flow."  
  
Everyone stared in shock at him. But he wasn't finished.  
  
"Let's let go of the past. Hold on to what's now and what awaits. There's no point in dwelling in self-pity or regret," he finished.  
  
The teacher nodded. "Words of wisdom beyond the years."  
  
Hot Streak lowered his head. That's what he had to do. Let go of the past. Hold onto the present. And see what awaits. 


	2. Drafting

Buyin` A Oneway Ticket Out of Your Mind  
  
//=thoughts   
  
-------------------------  
  
Hot Streak slowly opened his eyes and sat up. //Same old routine.// He managed to take a shower without falling asleep (which was a real win for him since he wasn't a morning person) and got dressed into a pair of black pants and a white, short sleeved button down shirt, noticing that the red dye in his hair was fading back to blonde. The phone began to ring as he slipped his pack over his shoulder. He picked it up, dreading who might be calling him.  
  
"Hello?"  
  
His eyes lowered as he realized who it was. "Yeah....Okay...."  
  
He scribbled something down on a piece of paper, slipped it into his pocket and walked out the door.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
"Francis? Francis? Is he absent again?"   
  
Virgil Hawkins stared at Hot Streak's empty seat then out the window. To his surprise, Hot Streak was leaning against the gate. At lunch, he walked over to him.  
  
"You're here on campus, but not in school. What's going on inside that head of yours?" Virgil asked.  
  
Hot Streak smiled sadly. "I've been drafted into the military. So....I'm gonna be leaving for a while...so I guess this is so long....right?"  
  
"Yeah...I-I guess so..." Virgil muttered.  
  
Hot Streak chuckled. "Knowin` you, I thought you'd be jumpin` up and down shoutin` 'hurrah'. By the way, give dis to the character ed teach."  
  
Hot Streak shoved the note into Virgil's hand then walked away.   
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
A year later.......  
  
A young boy entered the city of Dakota. He wasn't new here.....though everyone sure thought so. He had short, spiky, blonde hair and was dressed completely in black. Black corduroy pants, a black hooded sweatshirt and black sneakers. An old gun was hidden in his pocket. Although that gun only worked at a 25% pace, the young man had a good arm, but had barely ever fired it. He thought about what he'd written on that note.   
  
People who sin say this: they did it to survive. People who sin also say this: they can't stop. But what they don't know is that, if they just turn around, there's a light there. A light that will never go away.  
  
---------------------------------------------  
  
Well, there's chapter two. I'm running out of good sayings!!!! ^_^ I'm still working. So please be patient. I know it's kind of short. I'm better at short chapters, with long fanfictions. Please e-mail me if you have any tips or anything! 


	3. Knives

Chapter 3  
  
Its been so long since I've been home  
  
I've been gone, I've been gone way too long  
  
Maybe I've forgotten all the things I miss  
  
Oh, somehow I know there is more to life than this  
  
Only God Knows  
  
------------------------  
  
Francis stared at the mirror then back at his mother. He turned back at the mirror.   
  
"It's sticking up," he stated.  
  
"That's the way your fath-" his mother began.  
  
"I don't want it like dad's. If we're the same where's the individuality? I'll cut it myself," Francis answered, pushing his mother out the door. "Don't worry! It'll still look good."  
  
He sat down and began cutting his blonde hair, the way he saw a character in a show he liked. He pulled his hand through his hair to make it slightly stick up.  
  
"There. Just like Knives," he said nodding in consent. "That's just how I want it."  
  
Something has been taken from deep inside of me.  
  
A secret I kept locked away no one can ever see.  
  
Wounds so deep they never show, they never go away.  
  
Like moving pictures in my head for years and years they play.  
  
Easier to Run  
  
-------------------------  
  
Hot Streak stared at Static and smiled. So the great Static didn't even recognize his first enemy. It slightly amused him and at the same time, it made him happy that he recut his hair to how it was when he was twelve, before his mom died. Hot Streak then glanced down at the fallen Ebon.  
  
"Why'd you shoot him?!" Static asked enraged.  
  
He hated guns. Hot Streak already new that as he opened his gun up, lauging.  
  
"It's really hard to shoot someone when the bullets aren't even real. They're just rubber," he lauged. "He's only knocked out. Besides, for the price of one measly bullet, I can eat four slices of pizza!"  
  
Gear stared at Hot Streak. "What's your name anyway?"  
  
Hot Streak automatically stopped lauging. "Do I have to? I get really nervous when I do, but if I must....Can't you just say I'm a lonely hunter searching for a family and someone to love?"  
  
"He meant your name."  
  
"Oh, m-my name? Well, um...it's...uh..." Hot Streak stammered. Dammit! What the hell am I supposed to say? Knives! That's it! I'll just say that. I look like him don't I? I'll just use his name."Knives."  
  
"Knives? Is that your real name? Or just a wanna-be superhero name?" Virgil sneered.  
  
"No. It's my real name. Honestly," Hot Streak answered. Okay so that's a lie.  
  
Hot Streak turned on his heel and walked away, picking up his guitar case. What was he supposed to do? Tell them his real name? The superhero business had really taken its toll on the two. They were more muscular than he remembered and they had matured by about two percent. But then again, the army had done its job too. He now had extrememly good aim and his athletic abilities had increased also. The only downside to this was that he hadn't ignited in a while.   
  
Static stared at "Knives". His short blonde hair swaying in the wind. He had wandered over to Hot Streaks old hang out and was now trying to bust his way in. He paused, scratching his head. He shrugged then walked away. He sat down on a park bench, took out his guitar from its case, and began playing.  
  
" I see the city lights all around me Everyone's obscure Ten million people each with their problems Why should anyone care And in Your eyes I can see I am not just a man, vastly lost in this world Lost in a Sea of Faces Your body's the bread, Your blood is the wine Because you traded Your life for mine..." he sang.  
  
"You're good, I'll give you that," Static said, floating down toward him.  
  
"You think so? That's a song by Kutless," he answered, smiling. "I'm still practicing, but someday, when this all over, I hope to write my own songs."  
  
"What do you mean by 'when this is all over'?"  
  
Hot Streak stood up. "Static, it's hard when you're lost on the bridge between life and death. These people...these memories. I'd like to be rid of them. Someday, I'll be reunited with those lost to me. My friends, this city...my mother. Until then, I must stretch my wings and find the future that only I can search for. You must do the same."  
  
Static stared at the young blonde. Those words sounded so similar to the ones Hot Streak had written on that paper. Who was he? 


	4. Break Away

Author's note: Wo0t! I updated! Now, for a good part, when Hot Streak goes to school. Let's see what happens. I'm finally watching Trigun again, thus I'm getting more sayings (thank God!). But thank you for the "pencil" one, I'll be sure to use it.

Later: The First Light  
  
Chapter 4: Break Away

Broken this fragile thing now

And I can't, I can't pick up the pieces

And I've thrown my words all around

But I can't, I can't give you a reason

Only One

..............................  
  
Hot Streak placed his hand on the door of his locker. It was so familiar...and yet so strange. Everything had changed, and even the teachers had changed. He turned around to walk to the office, lost in thought. He shifted the weight of his guitar, staring at the doorknob. He finally opened it and set foot in the office. A few minutes later, he emerged with his schedule, and glanced down at it. Hot Streak was less than perfect, so his classes fit him nicely. History, Science, Algebra, music...he liked the idea of music. Fortunatly that was first period, so he was happy.  
At lunch, Virgil noticed Hot Streak wandering around the courtyard, looking a little lost. He walked up to him, along with Richie, and introduced himself.  
"I'm Virgil Hawkins. You are?"  
"Knives. Just Knives," Hot Streak muttered, not looking at him. "Ur...I'm a little lost. Can ya help a guy out?"  
Virgil nodded and showed him around, finally giving into the fact that he was a nice guy. He sounded a lot like Hot Streak however, which made him nervous. But he didn't act like Hot Streak, and his hair wasn't a firey red like his. Hot Streak smiled when Virgil introduced him to Frieda, who didn't seem to change too much in the past year.  
"What a lovely woman," he grinned, making the girl blush. "Would ya like me to play a song? Now, I don't mean to brag, but I can play some good tunes."  
"Oh..."  
For once, he felt at home. As he played the guitar and sang, he felt happy, something he hadn't felt since the death of his mother.  
After school, Hot Streak just wandered around, not really having anything to do yet. He decided to go to the junkyard and see if he could still ignite. He didn't really want to, since he was afraid that he was going to be hated again. He was sick of being hated or of being feared. It made him mad...but he always withdrew that anger, kept it balled up inside. As he stood in the junkyard, he concentrated, holding out his hand. A small fire ball appeared, crackling in his palm. He smiled and put it out. Not a moment too soon either, since Static came swinging in. "Well, looky here! The great gunman Knives!" Static grinned.  
"Hey. What's up?" Hot Streak grinned in return.  
"You know, yesterday when you said the whole, 'reunited with those lost' or whatever. It reminded me of the time a friend said something like that to me. You came from the army right? Did you see a guy named 'Hot Streak' or Francis?" he asked.Hot Streak put on a thoughtful look. "Yah, I think I saw him. I was paired up with him I believe. I dunno where he is right now, or if he's even alive."  
He put the last part there because it was true. He didn't know if -Hot Streak- was alive inside of him. He was a new person.  
"So, what's your story?"  
"Story? Hm...Hope. My search for it."  
"Hunh?"  
"Static, it's always life for life, hope for hope. Should any hope of any kind be tread on? I would think not. Sometimes people hold onto a false hope because they have no story, they have no life, and their past have vanished into thin air. We are always wishing that one day our past will return to us, even if it's the life we didn't want," Hot Streak sighed. "When I look in the mirror...someone else looks back. I remember a life that I never had, one that cannot be mine. I am piece that doesn't fit, I don't belong in this game. The board has been knocked over, and I shall be swept away."  
Hot Streak closed his eyes and sat down on the spot, falling asleep. Static snapped his fingers in front of his face but got no reaction. Deciding to leave the guy alone, he flew off, leaving Hot Streak to dream about whatever it was he was dreaming about.


End file.
